


Bound, Whether You Like It Or Not

by Destiel_is_OTP



Category: Original Work
Genre: And I decided to write this, And now it's five pages long, Escargot, Help, How Do I Tag, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, I cried while writing this, I don't know, I'm Hungry, Instead of sleeping like a normal person, Sadness, So I was bored, Soulmate identifying necklaces, Wow when did this become a novel, and now my friend ships my two ocs, asexualness, cream cheese, do any of these tags have anything to do with the actual content, help again, i should probably stop, its three in the afternoon, nobody is going to read this i can type whatever i want, or maybe three in the morning, so ace, so very very ace, sorry I can't spell, when did the tags only become a novel, who invented duct tape, who wants to hear a joke about escargo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8943346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiel_is_OTP/pseuds/Destiel_is_OTP
Summary: The entire summary is in the notes just go read thatActuallyIn a world where a predetermined soulmate lurks over everyone's head, there is a broken girl. She doesn't feel attraction. At least, not in the way that the rest of the world describes it. Evangeline Tenebris does not feel the emotion that her sister, parents, teachers, and older friends describe. She is lonely, and desperately wants to be "fixed"-- because she believes something is wrong with her. Her friend, Valerie Lucidum, the only one who will keep up with her and cares enough to comfort her, knows this. She does not, however, want to try and fix Evangeline. Because even though she might be the only one, Val believes that her friend is perfect.So maybe she'll finally realize she was never any less.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know like two people will read this and it's not even good WHY just try it okay
> 
> actually don't even  
> I don't care  
> b y e

I fingered my necklace, the elaborate charm embedded on it rubbed worn from years of constant rubbing. It was an oval, with a spiral and a jeweled circle in the middle. I couldn’t count how many times I’d studied it, looking for colours, looking for a sign. A sign of who it might be, who I was bound to from birth. Some people were paired with their opposites, some with their exact pairs that they could talk with for hours.

Some people’s chains broke. Those people got no pairing. They got condolences and loneliness. Everyone’s chains were unique, except for their betrothed, who had an identical one. Whenever you got close, your chain would heat up. Not in a painful way, but in a tingly, happy way. This was activated when you turned fifteen. You couldn’t meet your soulmate at four or six years.

There are legends. Nightmares. Stories about soulmates dying, having seen them once only to have them be killed when your eyes had just met for the first time.

And the last.

Every pendant also has a kind of gem or stone on it, and no three are ever the same shade. (But two are guaranteed to be exactly identical.) Thousands of variations of the same color, almost impossible to discern. 

Ruby. Onyx. Sapphire. Emerald. Peridot. Lapiz Lazuli. Amethyst. Sugilite. Amber. Alexandrite. Azarite. Malachite. Citrine. Bloodstone. Diaspore. Diamond. Fuchsite. Druzy. Garnet. Heliodor. Jasper. Jade. Kyanite. Lepidolite. Obsidian. Pearl. Pyrite. Sphene. Tanzanite. Tourmaline. Zircon. Hundreds of others.

You didn’t even know if they were a boy, a girl, an agender, or anything else. You just knew they were human… Like that was a clue. Nobody really knew why or when this system was created, or who made it up. Most were content with just accepting that every baby is born with a silver chain with a unique attachment on their neck, a choker, that expanded throughout growth. I don’t care. I just hope that I don’t end up with a broken chain. Or an abusive match.

That also happens sometimes. This society isn’t all about happiness. It’s just about where you fit in, and most importantly, with who. 

My sister bustled through the door. She was twenty six, and had told me of the urge she had had, one that pulled her through towns and even countries to unite with her soulmate. He in question, definitely matched Gwyneth. They were both talkative, energetic, and happy. 

The complete opposite of me. We looked almost exactly the same, (not accounting height difference) except for three major differences.

My eyes were dark, unforgiving purple, compared to her warm brown ones.

I had a seven inch long scar running down my back.

My pendant was onyx and obsidian. Gwyn’s was gold.

Most commonly, your pendant stone and even specific shade could represent your personality. Some people, the very rare ones, had two stones in their pendant. I was one of them. I was also one of the ones who had a necklace that was marked with two of the darkest stones imaginable. The ones, according to endless charts that had to be memorized for multiple classes, that represented death and sorrow. 

I supposed I could relate to both.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yay another chapter bleehhhh I suck at writing I'm sorry

I’m a classic antagonist. The scar, the horrific backstory, the omen of “death and destruction.” Except, I don’t want to be an antagonist. Sometimes I don’t even want to be a character.

Sometimes I don’t want a soulmate. I want to be the one who sits back and watches. Who cries when people die or get injured or sad or heartbroken. I want to be the viewer. I want to be the reader. But that’s not how it works. I have to participate, or it will all be for not.

Anybody I’ve ever told (approximately three people) have been horrified, and I have had to pass it along as some sick joke. Except for one person. My best friend, who always wears turtlenecks and never lets anyone see her necklace. Not even me.

She was there when I got my scar. She’s the only person who really knows what happened then. She’s the only one who ever calls me stupid pet nicknames like Angie. She’s the only one who’s allowed to do that.

Speaking of her, she was calling me. I accepted. Her face popped up on my Ipad. “Hi Evangeline! How are you doing?” This was code for “Have you harmed yourself?” I said that I was fine. She was sitting on the bunk bed she shares with her sister, grinning a grin that would make my head hurt had it been anybody else. “Did you finish The Raven Cycle yet?” She continued like that, making hyper small talk, scratching the surface of me.

Usually these talks happened once a day, if we didn’t see each other at school. Sometimes twice a day, if there was an emergency. We had a code word. “Telemarketers.” If I ever uttered that word out of very specific context, she would immediately switch to war mode. She would calmly ask me what was wrong, was it a person, was I physically hurt, was I mentally hurt, who was near me, my location, etc., etc.. This had only happened twice. But we had gone over it more times than I could remember. Under her soft, friendly surface there was a hard shell that would kill anybody who hurt her, me, or anybody in her immediate family.

She was a rock, firm in her decisions, a set emotional outline to her. I was more like a river. No. I was like a pebble being whooshed down the river. Confident at first, but then confused. A mess. But then gets worn smooth and emotionless by the battering waves. Learns to be silent.

That’s who I am. Soulmate or not. Quite frankly, I would be fine with her as a soulmate. I might even jump at the chance.

She wraps up the conversation, mostly spoken only by her, but occasional one word answers and meaningful facial expressions contributed by me. I listen to her voice repeat over and over in my head. “Goodbye, Angie!”

“Goodbye. Valerie.” I whisper.

I haven’t called her that in a long time. It’s always Val. That’s what she insists on. But nobody asks her name, because she’s friends with me. Valerie always defends me in the worst situations. Once, in sixth grade, about five months after the incident, and the grade where you should be over petty things but still act like small children, a girl told me she hoped my soulmate died.

I just stood there. A few people who had heard looked scared, or horrified. That insult was one of the worst. This was a girl who ruled. I didn’t cry. I didn’t gasp. I was silent.

The next few events started out slow, but then escalated. The girl, who was glaring intensely at me, murmured “Freak” and kicked me. Right in the place that was still healing from the accident. I shrieked. I couldn’t help it. It really did hurt.

I quickly covered my mouth, but not in time. Val had heard my plea. She was next to me, speaking insults and obscure quotes rapid fire. "Muggle. Bitch. Mundane. Asshole. Assbutt. Dalek. Moriarty. You Clod! Go eat nightlock. Burn on the ceiling. Witch. Sebastian Christopher Morgenstern is nothing compared to you. You’re worse than Satan himself. If you could read her mind, you’d be in tears."

The last one referring to me as “her”, of course.

Most of it was true. Fandom insults, not to be taken lightly. Before I could squeak out a demand for it to stop, Val spat at the girl, rolled her eyes, picked me up, bridal style, and got the hell out of that situation. Needless to say, neither Val nor me were particularly popular after that incident. Not that I was before.

I remember Val setting me down about a block away from the school yard, where the standoff had been. “You didn’t need to do that.” I mumbled. Val smiled. “Oh, but sweetie. I wanted to.”

Then she hugged me, and I melted. Val has sacrificed everything for me. Her social life, her other friends, most of her free time, and about half of her patience. Which is infinite. But the strangest thing is, she doesn’t care. I may be slightly depressed and a shy emo, but I can read people surprisingly well. And having tons of free time to browse the internet even if your parents are hovering over you, afraid you’re going to do something stupid, like commit suicide, is very helpful for researching how to tell if someone is lying. And I have become very good at it.

When Val taps her fingers on her side, it means she’s lying. When I see her and ask her why she keeps up with me, and she says that it’s because she loves me and she doesn’t care about her social life, her hands are quiet.

The most common, cliche clue is when someone doesn’t meet your eyes, or comes on too strongly. But some people are very strange. Some people scratch their elbows. Some people bite their lips. My sister laughs tinnily.

When I lie, my eyes dilate dramatically. And I look crazy.

Usually this happens in class. The teachers will ask me, fed up with my “antics”, why I don’t ever talk. And I’ll have to lie. I’ll say that I guess I’m just dumb, or I don’t know, or I never have anything to say. Then they’ll sigh and slowly learn that I’m not one to participate.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had a lot of this prewritten but I was lazy and thought it was horrible so yay

This year is ninth grade. The year when almost every person buzzes with excitement about who their soulmate is, and where they are. It’s sort of like an unspoken rule that your soulmate can’t be a close friend or someone you know well. Most everyone has to go on quest to find their partner. Though it could have happened at some point, nobody has ever heard of having a soulmate who you have grown up with, because you would know who they were because they would have the same charm as you. No one keeps their charms hidden.

Except Val. She says she doesn’t like her charm, that it doesn’t reflect her. I’ve known Val for eight years, and in that time I’ve pressed her hundreds of times, guessing and racking my brain for what it might be. I stopped roughly three years ago. Mostly. I occasionally ask her, but never really expect to get an answer.  
In tenth, that’s when your pendant is activated. Some of the very lucky ones, the ones with early summer birthdays, can find their soulmate before the school year even starts. They can get in a relationship, find out their similarities, why they were chosen to be together, and other related subjects.

I’ve no idea who my partner could be. Who would have the strength to keep up with me and deal with my obsessiveness and mood swings. Maybe Val will come visit me… But maybe not.

Over the years, I’ve been confused by matches and pairs. I’ve never felt anything like what my sister or anybody older than fifteen describes. Maybe I’m broken. Actually, I can bet that if anyone were to be broken and not be able to feel attraction, it would be me. I’m strange and dress erratically, but I wouldn’t say in a cute or quirky way. Just in another way. I can’t really describe it. Probably just plain unappealing.

I’ve never been popular, not in the way that matters. I’m sort of infamous, and in the lower grades I was a bit more outgoing, but back then nobody really knew anything. I think some kids may have liked me because of my pendant. When you’re a little kid, if something seems extra special, like my necklace with two different stones, it’s cool.   
So by extension, as the wearer, I was cool too.

You can’t take your necklace off. But it’s impossible to hurt yourself with it. If you try to remove it, you’re not supposed to get hurt or anything, it just… doesn’t move. But then if you stop, and walk around like normal, it will dangle or whatever it usually does. Once, in third grade, one year after I met Val, a boy tried to yank my necklace. To get a look at it or to try to steal it or something, I don’t know. But I do know that he yelped, dropped it like a hot coal, and ran away to tell his friends I was a sorcerer. Well, I don’t really know what he told his friends. I can imagine. But I can bet it probably rhymes with “witch”.

I vaguely remember telling Val afterwards, to which she reassured me that that’s probably what happens when somebody who isn’t the wearer of the necklace touches it. But I can remember seeing girls compare necklaces. And something like that never happened, to the best of my knowledge. It’s not like they were wearing gloves or something.

My sister’s voice rouses me from my stupor. “Evangeline! You’re so lethargic. Come with me and Alexander to the park. We can play Pokemon Go.” I rolled my eyes at her. “That game is dead. It died ten years ago.” Gwyn sighed exaggeratedly and mock pulled my arm. I gave her a deadpan glare. “I. Don’t. Go. Out.” Gwyn let go of my appendage. “Fine. You don’t even eat anymore. If you die, then I won’t have anyone to give me a death glare.” I buried my face in the soft chair.

“No.” If she kept pressing, I might have to give her the weepy face. Then she would give me the I’m-sorry-but-I-just-worry-sometimes expression, and then leave. After that, I would cry and beat myself up for shutting people out. My sister is always trying to get me to go out more. She accepts that I’ll never be like her, but she still hopes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow what another chapter  
> what is this, a good fic  
> Still horrible as always bye

Gwyn is one of the people who I’ve told about how I don’t really want a soulmate. She was horrified and afraid, so I had to laugh hollowly and run away. She acted warily around me for a couple hours, but it all ended up fine. The one other person was my nanny.

She quit. I don’t understand why they were so horrified, but in a way I also do. This is our longtime custom, and if someone does not want a pairing, then they are strange and should be treated as such. Back on topic. Gwyn gives me one last longing look and then calls her boyfriend before shutting the door aggressively behind her. Almost as an afterthought or an apology, she closes the other door very quietly.

I was bored now. I was almost never bored. I usually got dissolved in my vivid and violent imagination, or got dissolved into the mindless hole of the Internet. Reading, watching T.V., doing other stupid useless stuff to distract myself from the suckiness of the current state of the universe.

My mom hardly ever bothers me. She knows, like most of my acquaintances, that I’m not one to reckon with. I can silence someone with an icy stare. It’s a gift. It also kinda makes people scared of me. It’s very unnerving to most. It’s an asset when trying to convince others that you are a broken soul who cannot be reckoned with.  
So I spend most of my existence alone. It wasn’t always like this, I can be sure of, but there was never a time when I would not have preferred, on varying levels, to not interact with anyone.

I do go to school, if you are still wondering. As I mentioned before, I’m not popular and don’t talk much. But I do my homework, and I talk to Val. If I need to talk to a teacher, they seem fine with having Val along to translate for me. I like to speak in sign language, though the teachers are aware that I can talk. I think. But besides participation, I do get quite high marks on homework and presentations. I do talk sometimes though in class. I think it might have become an unspoken rule that if I have my hand raised, teachers will call on me. I speak maybe once or twice a week, average. Which maybe isn’t abnormal. I don’t know. I don’t pay attention much.

I’ve heard my parents discuss on multiple occasions whether or not I should be pulled out of school because of my lack of participation and auditory input. But then I come out of where I’m lurking and tell them, in a perfectly enunciated and planned speech, that basically sums up to that I am content with my educational environment and I would be very disappointed indeed if they were to pull me out of school. They then stare at me, mouths agape, blinking.

My mother and father have avoided talking about that since the second time.  
The first time, I ran out after only a minute of tension. I'm about as good with tension as functioning in social situations, which is to say, uh…

Not. That's the only way to really explain it. I’m about as good at social situations as I am with trigonometry, which is to say negative twelve on a scale of one to ten. Hm. I wonder if that would make Val laugh. I like making Val laugh.

Val is the only person who could ever make me laugh. When I make Val laugh, I feel like laughing too. That’s just how she is. Even for me. Gwen tells me that when Alexander laughs, she gets a feeling of light in her chest, like his laugh is infecting her with joy, quite literally.

That’s never really how I feel with Val. It’s just tingling, a small little burst.  
But Val couldn’t be my soulmate. For one, our necklaces aren’t the same. Well, I’ve never seen her necklace, but she is so bright that we couldn’t be a pair. 

She may be my heart, but I’m nothing vital to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun   
> I wish I knew how to plot at all  
> Nothing I write has any plot  
> Goodbye


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY BUT THIS IS AN AUTHORS NOTE

Dear wonderful readers,  
I am sorry to have to tell you this, but I cannot continue this story. I wrote it while I was in a really dark time, and now that I’ve regained most of my sanity, I can’t regain my old writing style. It was fiery and sorrowful and if I wanted to write in something even close to it, I would have to go off my meds for a while, and though writing is one of my great passions, I can’t risk that.   
I could try to continue once I’m completely stable, but it would be far from the grandeur and glorified depth of before. I’m afraid that if I did that, it would just be disappointing.  
I can’t decide what would be worse.  
A story that doesn’t want to be left behind and pulls you in until you’re drowning, or fans lying, heartbroken in front of their computers, wishing for a happy ending that would never come.  
Maybe I think too highly of myself.  
Maybe once I find my way to a happy ending, I can return.  
But for now?  
Goodbye.  
Val wishes you well.  
Angie smiles barely through tears, her necklace twinkling. For once, it yearns for hope. Not darkness.  
I wish you guys well,

Destiel_is_OTP.  
(Maybe someday you’ll find your match. You can find an Angie or a Val to help. Or maybe be your match. Good luck.)


End file.
